The Plot to Kill Kylo Ren
by sap1066
Summary: The Force bond is broken but Rey still has dreams, dreams she really shouldn't be having, dreams that leave her sweaty and unsatisfied, until something changes... This is comedy smut, no message, no morals and very little plot. Don't expect any more of it than that.
1. Chapter 1

Afterwards, he came to her only in dreams.

She didn't want him to, it would have been far nicer to have dreamt about clouds or sheep or something fluffy and pleasant, but every time she lay down, back into her mind he'd pop, all weepy eyes and pouting. It wasn't the strange connection Snoke had forced on her, in fact, she'd have preferred to use that as an excuse, but she was sure that the things he did and said in her dreams were drawn entirely from her own subconscious. That was what made the whole thing so embarrassing.

She'd spent the last few weeks since the flight from Crait helping to rebuild the Resistance, which in her case consisted mostly of lifting things. She was the vanguard of Leia's fabulous new plan to restore hope to the galaxy, by playing the video of Luke standing up to Kylo Ren without a scratch, closely followed by Rey lifting heavy objects to demonstrate her power. Clips of her dressed as a Jedi, swishing her lightsaber around in a purposeful fashion and then lifting a ship or two were flooding across the media channels on every system the Resistance could still reach, and Rey was glad to say she'd been spared the shame of watching any of them.

When she wasn't being filmed, she was meeting and greeting potential new recruits, being rolled out like a special competition prize at every gathering the Resistance organised. It was uncomfortable, much too public and made her acutely self-conscious, so the retreat to her own room at the end of the day was something she looked forward to.

Then the dreams started, and although once inside them she let go of her inhibitions completely, when she woke, she always felt slightly dirty, ashamed even.

It was always his eyes that started it. She'd be crossing the nebulous boundary between waking and sleep and she'd see his eyes, full of firelight, or through an escape pod window, or begging and accompanied by an outstretched hand. Her mind managed to supply a different ending to the story every time, one that didn't finish with him as the Supreme Leader of the First Order and her as the posterchild of the Resistance but brought them together.

Sometimes, in the dream, he flew to the island to find her. Sometimes, they jumped into a fighter the minute she'd clambered out of the escape pod and fought their way off the Supremacy together. Sometimes, he decided to save the Resistance and not succeed to the throne. Over the last month the dreams had shifted focus and become rather more specific, and instead of them just ending up together, they also ended up well, together. The next morning she'd wake sweaty and unsatisfied and was forced to burn off the excess energy in a long run or dampen her ardour with a cold shower.

So when she fell asleep one evening nearly five weeks since she'd last seen him on Crait, she knew exactly what to expect. It was the throne room this time.

'Join me, and I promise I'll save the Resistance, dismantle the First Order and be kind to small children and animals.'

She stepped closer, drawn irresistibly into the ambit of his magnetic eyes. 'I don't care about politics. Give me another reason to stay.'

His face softened, his gaze melted beneath her formidable stare and he swayed towards her, extending his hand into a soft caress to her cheek. 'Then stay because I love you, stay because I'll turn from the dark side for you. Stay because I don't want to be alone ever again.'

The words, the sincerity with which they were spoken, the trembling emotion writ large all over his poor, damaged face dissolved all her doubts and she completed the inevitable fall into his arms.

'You are not alone,' she murmured, and then his lips crashed down on hers, his hands spanned her back, pulling her into an intensely passionate kiss.

He withdrew a second later leaving her gasping, nuzzled her neck and whispered, 'This sounds like a really bad romance novel.'

'Of course I'll come to your bedroom,' she replied, dazed by lust and anticipation into answering a question he hadn't yet asked.

He bent backward so he could get a better look at her face, raised an eyebrow. 'Do you know where my bedroom is?'

She was hypnotised by his lips, stretched up to capture them again, but he avoided the movement and she wound her arms around his neck instead, digging a hand into his hair to hold his head still.

'Just over there. Second door on the right. Let's go right now.' She raised herself on tiptoe, ground her hips against his pelvis suggestively.

His eyes opened wide. She fell into them, sank into the depthless well of feeling he kept so carefully hidden, the secret currents of love and devotion that powered his conflict.

He said, 'Is that what we usually do? Go to my room?'

'Oh no.' She ran her fingertips over his chest, wondering at the ripple of muscle, the hard lines and hollows that the fabric couldn't entirely conceal. 'We can try the floor if you can't wait. Or the throne? How about the throne?'

She liked the direction the dream was taking this time, was well into the swing of it by now and she took a pace backwards, regarding him with a knowing eye.

'I think you'll find Snoke's still. Oh.' He scanned the rest of the scene quickly. 'I'm pretty sure there should be more dead people. And this room is usually a lot bigger. And less pink. More red. You might want to rethink. Oh.'

He turned his attention to her again, and his reaction was everything she'd expected since she'd shed her clothes in piles all over the floor and was ascending the throne completely naked.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, his words falling into a faltering silence. 'Do you have something, a cowl or something…'

A hot flush raced across his face, spotting his cheekbones with high points of colour and his throat worked convulsively.

Very slowly, and deliberately, she seated herself, and then separated her legs, hooking one casually over the arm of the chair and sliding herself forward to balance her hips on the edge. 'Kneel,' she commanded.

He took a step backwards, glancing around the room in the direction of the exit.

'I said, kneel.' She raised a finger, and the power of the Force compelled him to his knees, although from the strange twitching of his shoulders it looked like he was putting a lot of effort into resisting.

She took the raised finger, continued its movement downwards, ran it over her stomach and into the warm, welcoming gap between her thighs, rubbing herself lightly while he watched.

His mouth was hanging open, an expression almost of panic in those inky pools he used for seeing and the sight of him kneeling, so subservient to her will sent a flash of heat downwards. She stroked herself a little harder, ran her finger down and inserted it deep inside, searching for the gathering wetness, then extracted that finger and with it still glistening in the air, she crooked it into a beckoning motion.

He flew towards her, still on bended knee and she deposited him right in front of her spread legs. Then she reached out, and, slowly and deliberately, pushed her dirty finger between his lips.

His eyes bulged, but he couldn't look away and she dipped her finger into and out of his mouth, penetrating it in long, smooth strokes. She wiped her finger up his cheek, leaving a trail of moisture and then wound her hand deep into his hair, exerting a light pressure forwards.

He gabbled, 'You might want to reconsider this Rey, I'm not sure I'm ready for this kind of commitment.'

And then she yanked his face forward and smothered his words between her legs.

She held him there long enough that his colour went a faint pink through lack of oxygen and then pulled him back, allowing him to heave a few quick breaths.

His eyes were wild, and she bent down, took a firm grasp of his chin and gave the order. 'Lick me.'

His attention flickered between her eyes and her clitoris, as if he wasn't sure which part of her he was supposed to be addressing. 'Are you sure? I'm really out of practice.'

She knew he wouldn't be, that was the point of the dream after all. In the silence of her mind she could take any lover she wanted, as many times as she wanted, in as many ways as she wanted, and no one would ever know.

She tugged on his hair, but there was less resistance, and his tongue came out as he bent forward. He used the very end of it on her first, flicking at her with tiny, teasing strokes that made her sigh and gradually he built into a steady rhythm, the pointed pressure on the upstroke eliciting a run of shivers that made her thighs quake.

Her head lolled back against the chair, she released her Force led control of him and his hands came up, spreading her legs wider and he moved his head, encasing her flesh with his whole mouth. He sucked on her, alternating that with broad, side to side motions with the blade of his tongue that raised her hips off the seat, arching into this most intimate of kisses.

He put his hands beneath her backside, dropped his head and she felt his tongue prodding at her, then pushing inside her, shallow but incredibly erotic, and she moved her fingers downwards to touch herself as he fucked her with his tongue.

He extracted his hands, flicked her fingers away, set his own to work, exerting a hard friction that had her bucking out of the chair. Then he changed ends, his tongue returned to its steady licking and his fingers delved inside her instead.

She was going to come on his face.

The pleasure circled though her groin on a tight throb of exquisite tension, about to break. She tugged on his hair, and he glanced up at her, his nose buried in her pubic mound, tongue lapping her into oblivion and quite deliberately, he winked.

She came with a cry, her stomach clenching, legs clamping shut around his ears as his fingers filled her again and again and his tongue became a hot and heavy blur between her thighs.

The minute she sagged back, he surged upwards, capturing her mouth in a kiss so deep she could taste herself, his lips already wet with her moisture. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, once, twice, and then dropped back onto his heels, finally withdrawing from her depths with a slurping slither.

'What usually happens now?' he asked, hopefully.

'I pretend I never dreamt this,' she murmured, relaxing back into a deep and satisfied slumber.

The next morning for the first time in five weeks she felt relaxed, refreshed when she woke, although she could tell by the residue on the sheets that was because she'd managed to dream herself into an orgasm rather than from any mundane reason involving eight hours in bed.

She rolled off the tiny, uncomfortable cot, straightened the single blanket, picked up her threadbare towel and went to stand in line for the shower.

Poe caught up with her in the queue, whistling. 'Rey's got an admirer,' he said in an irritatingly smug voice, thrusting a screen in her face. 'Look - a message for you from one of your many fans. It was posted on a video clip from yesterday.'

Rey squinted at the screen. It was a hand drawn map, of a vaguely triangular shaped ship, with a large round space drawn in the middle, in the centre of which was a chair, marked in an almost unintelligible scrawl ' _throne_ '.

Leading off this large, circular room were drawings of several other rooms, all of which had crosses through them and the label ' _not my room'_. On the opposite side of the circle a corridor had been drawn, with a dotted line indicating the correct route, and an X denoting the destination. Next to it was the legend ' _my room'_.

Rey looked at the picture, had a sudden and awful realisation about the nature of her dream and then flushed as red as the real life walls of the throneroom on the map.


	2. Chapter 2

She avoided going to bed for as long as possible the next night, staying up with Finn and Poe, kicking around various unlikely plots to kill Kylo Ren.

His rule over the galaxy was exactly five weeks in, and already he was fulfilling the Resistance's worst fears. Restrictions on the movement of people and goods had been introduced, along with regular First Order inspections of suspicious looking ships and cargo, which was making it difficult for them to gather resources and build support. Communications channels were almost certainly monitored, and the Resistance's few remaining coding experts were pushed to the limit trying to disguise the origin of the messages the rebels sent out. First Order drones swarmed inhabited and uninhabited planets alike, searching out hiding places as the new Supreme Leader attempted to annihilate his remaining enemies.

His most prominent enemy, and the one whom everyone acknowledged was going to be the only person capable of delivering the killing blow had spent most of the day trying to erase the image of his face between her legs from her mind.

'How about a giant explosion? suggested Finn, miming a ball of expanding gas. 'We could blow him up.'

'We don't have any bombers,' Poe explained, for about the fifteenth time. 'We'll have to sneak onboard his flagship and kill him by hand. It's the only way.'

'I'll never get aboard any ship he's on unnoticed. He'll be able to sense me coming.' Although sometimes he was also able to hear it, see it and taste it, her traitorous mind reminded her.

'Then we'll have to lure him off his ship and attack him when he's vulnerable,' Poe concluded. 'But I'm not sure how to lure Kylo Ren anywhere. 'Any suggestions?' He gave her a knowing look.

Rey shifted under his scrutiny. By now, everyone knew. She'd given a clear and detailed account of the events that had led to the assassination of Snoke, involving the telepathic bond she'd shared with Kylo Ren, her reckless attempt to save him, and the fact that he'd chosen to save her and kill Snoke instead. Every aspect had been dissected by the skeleton Resistance leadership, and then, because none of them could keep their mouths shut, by the rest of the Resistance as well. It was commonly believed, among all the rebel scum in the galaxy, that Rey and Kylo Ren had enjoyed a brief and torrid affair and he was now tearing the galaxy apart because he was so annoyed she'd left him.

She decided to go to bed, just to avoid any more probing questions.

It was with resignation that she removed her clothes and squirmed under the covers. She had the luxury of her own room, but it wasn't exactly luxurious, so small that she'd had to clear the mops, buckets and other cleaning equipment out of it when she'd arrived.

Her eyes closed, her breathing deepened, and there she was in his bedroom. It was an exercise in black - black floor, black walls, black sheets on the bed, an uninterrupted view of space out of the window. There was an empty helmet stand on a bedside table, a couple of books, mostly self-help, an entire closet full of cloaks.

She felt his arrival in the same way she'd hear a communications channel not properly closed – a low-pitched hiss at the back of her brain, the suggestion of static. She turned, saw him across the room, standing awkwardly in front of the door in his usual tunic and trousers garb and the very first thing that rushed into her mind was the memory that she'd used him as her personal sex slave and come all over his face.

She was almost entirely sure, that was the first thing that had rushed into his mind as well.

'Get out of my head,' she snapped rudely, to cover her embarrassment.

'I'm not in your head,' he demurred. 'You're dreaming about me, aren't you? I'm in your dreams.'

'You're not supposed to be in my dreams at all, not the real you. I was quite happy with the fake one.'

'I imagine he's a lot more compliant,' he replied, with the suspicion of a smirk.

She frowned back. 'He's more compliant, but you were more enthusiastic. You were really enjoying yourself by the end.'

He didn't like being reminded of that. 'What are you doing dreaming about me anyway? I would have thought you'd be plotting to kill me by now.'

'I am plotting to kill you. Like most of the galaxy.'

'Then why are you dreaming about me?'

'I dream about a lot of people.'

He took a pace forward, tilted his head and gave her an intent, searching stare. 'No, you don't.'

'Get out of my head,' she repeated.

He glanced around the room, strolled over to the bed and read the spine of one of the books. 'How To Be Frightening: 10 Steps To Success.' His eyebrows snapped into a scowl.

'You're asleep right now then – you must be quite a long way away from me. Are you going to tell me where you're hiding?'

'Not a chance. How come you're here if you're not asleep?'

'I'm in a meeting. I got distracted, but it doesn't matter. I'll just get Hux to repeat everything he's been saying for the last ten minutes, he'll love that.'

'You weren't dreaming about me, then?' She felt vaguely disappointed.

He favoured the room with a disparaging stare. 'This isn't the sort of thing I dream about.'

'But you can see my dreams. And,' she went on. 'Since these are my dreams and you've said you're not in my head, I can dream you doing anything I like, can't I?'

He gave her a sharp look. 'What did you have in mind?'

She advanced on him with a determined tread. 'Take off your clothes. Slowly. I'm going to dream up some music for you to dance to.'

'I need to get back to my meeting now. It's very important.'

He disappeared into nothingness immediately.

A few minutes later, the door zipped open, and the dream version of him appeared, panicking and dishevelled. 'Rey, Rey, why did you come here? I'll have to take you to Snoke and he'll kill you Rey, you don't know what he's like.'

He pulled her into his arms, his heart pounding under the ear she had pressed against his chest.

She soothed him, running her fingers over his back. 'We can beat him together, don't worry. We'll be fine, as long as we're together.'

He pulled back a little, scouring her face anxiously. 'You mean, if I come up with a brilliant idea to trick him and save you at the same time?'

She shrugged. 'Something like that. Although you might find I deliberately put myself in danger just to get you to make a decision about whose side you're on.'

He hugged her tight, buried his face in her hair. 'Maybe, but I think you'll find I do all the hard work. My darling.'

She bridled a bit at that, deciding that imagining him saying 'my darling' was a little too out of character, even for her. She slid a hand down to the front of his trousers, cupped the bulge she found there until it hardened beneath her touch.

'Let Snoke wait. I have something to show you first.'

'And what's that?' he whispered brokenly.

She dropped to her knees. 'How to shout my name.'

She sprang him free of his trousers, annoyed to find she'd forgotten to imagine him without underwear, which just added to the struggle she usually had with the heavy fabric. She'd also imagined him considerably thicker this time, more blunt, less delicate, with prominent veins and much darker in skin tone. She licked her way up his shaft, chasing the veins from base to tip, encasing the smooth head with her lips a few times before pulling back, gazing up at him innocently.

She usually liked to imagine him grateful for this activity, climaxing quickly at the unexpected novelty of the pleasure she was giving him, but it seemed this evening her subconscious was more in the mood for a little domination.

He thrust his hips forward, driving his erection into the back of her throat and making her cough. She adjusted rapidly, since this was a dream and gag reflexes didn't operate the same way as in real life. He put a hand on the back of her head, dragging it forward, and combined that with another flex of his hips, that stuffed her mouth with fully aroused male. Both hands clamped on either side of her face then, and he picked up the rhythm, tilting her head so that their eyes met, and he had an uninterrupted view of her swallowing his cock.

There was heat in his gaze, she could feel it burning through the air, passion and desire and lust, and then something else behind it all. She stopped caring about the spit dribbling from the corners of her mouth, the strange noises her throat was making as he used it and tried to identify that expression in his eyes. He extracted himself from her lips, stroking his hand up and down vigorously.

'Take your clothes off and lie on the bed with your head off the end.'

She scrambled to obey, wondering why she'd ever thought up this position, or why she'd decided to imagine him ordering her around, when she usually preferred it the other way. He stood over her, stretched her mouth wide and shoved into it again, bending forward to support himself on one arm as the other found the place between her legs and began to rub at it in time with his thrusts.

He was doing to her, exactly as she'd done to him yesterday, except that she doubted he'd feel so guilty about it in the morning. There was more of an element of reciprocity in this encounter though, because as long as she lay quietly and let him fuck her mouth like a good girl, the more of that delicious friction she got. The deeper she took him, the wider her lips opened, the harder his fingers worked at her. She was enjoying it, enjoying the feeling that he was in control, and she didn't want to think too hard about why. Her hips raised off the bed, arching towards him, and she reached out, groping for his thighs to pull him closer, only to have both wrists pinned down on her chest as he straightened, increased his depth and his speed. Her head was upside down, the blood rushing to her brain and her oxygen supply was impeded by the fact that he was owning her face. His finger was a frantic scrub between her legs, a pulse of sensation through her body so acute she shouted when she climaxed.

Her shout was strangled by a jerk and a release that choked her throat with thick, warm liquid. He pulled out immediately, collapsing on the bed beside her, and she sprawled onto her front, spit and semen staining her cheeks, smiling.

He glanced down at her, shaking his head. 'Look at the state of you. This isn't right. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. What are you doing to me?'

She didn't answer, because she'd already fallen asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next few nights her dreams were peaceful and unencumbered by visitations from Kylo Ren, real or imagined. When she slept, Rey simply dreamed in ill defined, cushioned recollections from her childhood, a land where everything was sunny, and life was as simple as scavenge, eat, sleep.

One morning, Poe showed her a new message posted on the First Order's communications channel. Kylo Ren's speaker-mangled voice appeared alongside a picture of her face. 'I want this woman found. I will pay thirty million credits to anyone bringing her in alive and unharmed.'

'For thirty million, I'll take you in myself,' Poe quipped, but his tone was serious. 'That's a big temptation, Rey. You need to be especially careful about whom you trust from now on.'

It was a sensible warning, but unnecessary, because if there was one thing she'd learned from her brief flirtation with the dark side, it was that no one could be trusted. Her lightsaber was with her at all times, and she was permanently on her guard, suspecting even the most loyal of the rebels of ulterior motives. The time she had spent with Ben, back when he was happy to be called Ben, had taught her that her instincts about people were wrong, and now she was nervous about trusting anyone. The bounty on her head was just going to make that worse. She continued attending the meetings that Leia wanted her to attend, but she scouted entry and exit points and kept her interactions short.

Then one night she fell asleep and woke up in his room. There was a complete absence of light, only a faint starshine from the window which did nothing to cut the gloom. She was in bed though, and she wasn't alone.

There were no words this time, just a hand brushing her cheek and then a mouth, soft and warm against hers. She opened her lips into the kiss, which broadened into tongues almost immediately and he shifted half atop her, a leg inserting itself between her thighs, one hand swiping up from her waist to cup her breast. She explored him with her fingers, the skin of his back, the muscles of his backside. He was already hard against her hip.

The kiss continued as she wrapped her hand around him, and he whispered romantically in her ear, 'Not so hard, or it'll fall off.'

He slipped a finger inside her, and she whispered romantically in his ear, 'Harder, or I'll fall asleep.'

There was more fire to their joining now, more heat. She raked her nails down his back and he gasped with pain. His thumb pressed firm circles into her flesh and she gasped with pleasure.

He extracted his hand and shifted over, wedging her legs apart and she confirmed, from the fit and the feel of that first thrust, that this wasn't the version of him she'd imagined alone in her dreams. It didn't matter though, because his tongue plunged into her mouth as his hips launched themselves into her body and she was full of him, consumed by him, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him to make that possession complete. There was a roll to his strokes she hadn't invented, a grind to his penetration she hadn't imagined, an assurance in the way he took her that she'd never dreamed.

He was also putting in a lot more effort that the dream version of him ever had. He threw himself into her with force and increasing abandon, and she had to brace her arms against the headboard to stop herself being shunted up the bed. He broke the kiss, buried his face in her neck instead, and his breath came hot and laboured against her skin.

She brushed the shell of his ear with her tongue, whispered, 'This isn't doing much for me.'

He reached down, hooked the knees she had clenched around his waist with his forearms and brought them flat to the bed instead, spreading her open and resuming the pounding between her thighs. 'That's because you're just lying there and letting me do all the work.'

She felt the slap of him against the cheeks of her bottom, the base of his cock dragging against her opening, but she was no closer to orgasm, and decided she'd had enough of letting him set the pace. She imagined him flipping her over onto her knees, her hands braced against the head of the bed, with him throbbing behind her, probing for the right spot between her legs.

She heard him murmur, somewhere halfway down her back. 'You're dreaming about me right now, alone in bed while you touch yourself.'

'Because you seem to have forgotten what to touch. Do you want me to point it out?'

Then his fingers finally found her clitoris, she was impaled on his body and she cried out as he slammed into her rough and hard, an arm clamped around her stomach, his hand a circling blur between her legs.

'At last,' she sighed.

She let her head drop, panting out her pleasure to the darkness as the climax built, stealing her concentration until she was only aware of his fingers and the rhythmic pressure splitting her open.

'Say my name,' he whispered, as her breath fractured into broken sobs.

'Which one?' she panted back as the waves broke over her, opting instead to call him a long drawn out expletive that got louder as he shuddered his climax into her, groaning.

She collapsed forward onto the bed, sore and sweaty, and the mattress bounced as it took his weight next to her.

He prodded her in the back with a finger. 'Don't fall asleep. I want to talk to you.'

She stretched out, languorous in the afterglow. 'What are you doing here again?'

'I've been thinking about you. Well, I've been thinking about whether or not to kill you, actually, but I think that's why I found your dreams. They aren't really dreams, more like a meditative trance, except with a lot more sex. I was doing a similar thing at a similar time and there you were.'

'Then what you are doing here again?' She put more emphasis on the last word this time.

'I find I'm…fascinated by the fact that you dream about me. I can't help thinking that we could have had this if you hadn't failed me at the last moment and run like a coward back to the Resistance.'

'And if you hadn't failed me at the last moment and turned into a lying, power mad tyrant, hell bent on dominating the entire galaxy, then yes, we could have had this. That's why I dream about it. I believed you when you said I wasn't alone.'

'You aren't alone. But we're too different to be together. So, I wondered if you wanted to keep on doing this on a temporary basis, just until we kill each other.'

'You're suggesting we have sex with each other until we die? Now who sounds like a bad romantic novel?'

'I didn't have anything like that in mind. You enjoy this. I enjoy it. We're both adults and it's harmless.'

'Would you keep on coming into my dreams, or would I go to yours?'

'I don't have dreams like this. I'll come to you, but you could give me a bit more creative license, let's say.'

She didn't want to sound too enthusiastic. 'I'll think about it.'

'Good. Could you think about it at a slightly different time? It's really inconvenient to have to stop what I'm doing to come and eavesdrop on your dreams. I had to rush out of a speech I was giving and I'm standing in a cupboard at the moment with really wet pants. I'm going to have to go back on stage looking like I've had an accident.'

She let that image drift away, smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

When Rey woke in a tangle of bedsheets, crisp with old sweat, she still had his proposition on her mind. It followed her through the dry bread roll which was the only thing available for breakfast, trailed after her as she made desultory conversation with financiers and wealthy backers, nudged her as she completed her party piece and lifted today's willing assistant off the floor to the accompaniment of polite applause.

She had no doubt that if she turned him down he'd just appear in her thoughts again anyway, that was just the sort of man he was, but there might be a way she could turn this to her advantage. It might just be possible, if she managed to get close enough to him, to convince him to meet her somewhere private, to lure him off his Star Destroyer, away from the protection of his fleet and finish him for good. This might be the way to kill Kylo Ren.

Enthused with that idea she tried to work out a suitable time to kick off her plot, but intergalactic time zones could be tricky. Her night was the middle of his day, but all planets had their own rotational cycle so that wasn't necessarily a very good guide. Eventually she just searched for the location of his last speech, found his approximate local time zone from that and worked out that if she wanted to catch him in bed she'd need to be somewhere quite private by lunchtime.

That was a bit of a problem on a base this small, with walls this thin. Finn, who shared a bedroom with Poe next to hers, had already started complaining about how noisy she was being in the middle of the night, although what he was doing awake in the middle of the night was something about which she'd prefer not to enquire. She wandered out into the forest as midday approached.

Phanophanopia was a jungle world, with a sky coloured deep violet as a result of the chemicals in the atmosphere, the fumes given off by so many plants. She stopped in a glade carpeted with carmine moss, fringed in deep green fronds, far enough off the beaten track to be sure no one else from the Resistance was going to blunder in. She sat down in the centre of the clearing, closed her eyes and attempted to enter whatever a meditative trance might be. Without training though, it was hard to know what state of enlightenment she was aiming at, so instead she tried to inhale deeply and slowly, focus on the beating of her heart and the pulse in her wrists, block out the animal noises and the light on her face and just breathe.

'Where are we?' he said.

Her eyes flew open, although somewhere she was dimly conscious that she was still breathing deeply and hadn't moved. 'Outside. What can you see?'

He shrugged, and his face looked different, bathed in sunlight, fresher, cleaner somehow. 'Jungle. You. I take it this is a yes?'

She dropped him a fake smile. 'Like you said, it's harmless. I hope this time fits in better with your schedule. I had to come out to the middle of nowhere to get some privacy while everyone else is having lunch.'

'Is privacy important?'

'I don't want everyone to know I'm sleeping with Kylo Ren.'

'You're not sleeping with me. You're dreaming about sleeping with me. I imagine there are people all over the galaxy dreaming about sleeping with Kylo Ren.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Aren't you supposed to be in bed?'

'I am in bed.' He followed the direction of her glance down to the full set of robes, boots and gloves he was wearing. 'Let me fix that.'

His body shimmered like it had been caught in a heat haze and re-emerged clad in a pair of loose black pyjama bottoms. His chest was ridiculously broad, she decided, almost unnaturally so, and he was completely hairless. She felt an urge to march over there and bite his nipples. She licked her lips.

'Is that what you're wearing right now?' she asked.

'More or less.'

'Which?'

'More, actually.'

He shimmered again, returning stark naked, sporting an enormous erection and a smug little smile. She glanced down to find that her clothes had disappeared too, but she was busy reacquainting herself with the enormous erection, all the more impressive when it wasn't being wedged down her throat.

She stood there and looked at him for a while, conscious that he was doing the same to her, his attention lingering over her breasts, her crotch, in the same way she was fixated on his groin. She couldn't remember ever experiencing such animal lust before in her life, her mind spilling over with positions she wanted to try, fantasies she wanted to explore with him beside her, willing and capable.

He moved for her at the same time she reached for him, his hands all over her, smoothing down her arms, squeezing the flesh of her breasts, dragging between her thighs to feel the wetness already pooling there. She spent a few whole seconds running her tongue across his chest and then fisted her hand around him, her thumb finding the moisture gathering on the end and brushing it off slowly while he watched.

She made to drop to her knees, but he followed her down, signalling with a significant look the position she should take as he rolled onto his back. She spread her legs across his face, bent forward to suck him into her mouth. The things he could do to her with his tongue and his fingers were beyond words. She was halfway to a climax before he'd so much as completed his first lick, fingers already sliding deep within her, twisting as they moved. She concentrated on the taste of him on her tongue, the feel of him filling her mouth before realising that actually, this wasn't going to work, and she broke away swiftly, flinging her leg across his hips so she could straddle him. There was an abrupt surge of friction and heat between her thighs, she brushed a fingertip over her clitoris automatically and she was climaxing around him, emerging on the other side a few seconds later, red faced.

'Sorry.' She didn't really want to meet his gaze, sneaked a guilty look from beneath her eyelashes.

'Don't be sorry.' She heard the sincerity in his voice, looked at him properly.

'And don't be embarrassed in front of me, either.' He raised his hips a fraction, reminding her that he was still buried, thick and tight inside her. 'If there's something you want me to do, tell me. If there's anything you want to try, ask. I won't judge you for it. This will only work if we're honest with each other.'

She bit her lip, nodded, agreeing to his terms as long as sex was concerned, but having no intention of revealing she'd try and use it to ambush him, if she could. He raised a hand, slid it around to cover the place she'd just been touching, still throbbing from last time, and he circled it firmly, making her gasp because the sensation was still so raw.

'Shall we try again?' He thrust upwards into her properly, rubbing hard enough that the soreness tuned into a powerful burn of pleasure. She set the pace, raising and lowering her hips on top of his, pulling him out almost completely, just for the satisfaction of slamming back down, meeting the hard rush as he rammed home. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations building inside her, running her fingers up and down her chest, tugging on her nipples for a bit more friction.

He didn't seem to be tiring, was barely breathing hard but she was about to climax again when, on the outskirts of hearing, she thought she caught voices. His fingers moved against her, finding an angle that forced pleasure deep into her core and although her eyes flew open, she was incapable of stopping the orgasm now it had arrived.

Two men emerged in the clearing opposite her, young men, barely into adulthood, whose faces she didn't recognise, meaning they were new recruits, dressed in the dull tan and brown uniforms of the Resistance. Their eyes were wide with shock as they stared at her but there was nothing she could do, as the man between her legs pushed her over the boundary of control. She shouted out, arched her back into the penetration, his fingers jerking, noisy and wet within her, her hands tightening on her breasts. She came, her eyes open and watching them watch her and it went on for longer because she was trying so hard to get it to stop.

'There are people,' she whispered, as soon as she was able.

One of the men turned to the other. 'Did you just see what I just saw?'

'Yeah,' his mate replied. 'She's beautiful when she comes.'

The man beneath her, still rock solid despite the fact that she was now slippery around him, sat up immediately.

One of the recruits stepped pack, pointing a shaking finger. 'She's fucking Kylo Ren.'

The man himself smiled lazily, leaned back on one arm and gave a tiny wave.

The other boy's voice was hoarse with terror. 'He's the most frightening man in the galaxy.'

The most frightening man in the galaxy reached out quite deliberately with his free hand, and wrapped it around Rey's right breast, squeezing it into a point.

Her attention flicked from the voyeurs on the other side of the glade down to the man obviously enjoying their presence as he bent forward, his tongue swirling a wide circle around the brown of her nipple with an exaggerated moan.

He glanced over at the two men. 'Do you want to watch?'

Rey's mouth fell open.

He went for her other breast, slurped it into his mouth and sucked on it lasciviously. He glanced over again, said, through a mouthful of aureole, 'Or do you want to join in?'

Rey pushed him off her in outrage, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Go away,' she yelled at the men on the other side of the clearing, who faded back into the jungle.

'Privacy is important then,' he remarked.

She slid off his body with an ease born of two back to back orgasms. 'I'm going to have to go back to the base and sort this out.' She scrambled to her feet, looking round for her clothes.

'Now?'

Glancing down, she remembered that she was the one with the two orgasms and he was still hard and glistening, the enormous erection still firmly erect.

'Get on your hands and knees, I promise I'll be quick,' he promised.

She couldn't just leave him unsatisfied after what he'd done for her, twice, but she dropped to the floor with bad grace. 'Get on with it.'

'This is your favourite position, isn't it?' he murmured, kneeling behind her and pressing inside with an assured stroke.

The two orgasms meant that she could feel the jab of his thrusts, but there was no way she was going to come again. The grip on her hips yanked her backwards as he plunged forward, and she dropped her head and waited for it to be over.

Her pelvis wobbled as he let go, a shadow passed across the sunlight, but she was too slow to see what he was doing. The bushes opposite her rustled and a camouflaged blur resolved itself into the two Resistance fighters who hesitated, before what was clearly another wave of his arm beckoned them forward. She tensed to knock them away with a blast from the Force, but he used that moment of distraction to slide his hands to her thighs, picking her up and spreading her legs wide. She caught her weight on her arms, felt the sudden slam as he pushed in further, hit the barrier inside her that meant she couldn't take any more, and then made a determined effort to push through it away.

The two interlopers had made it to her new, more precarious position and she was about to launch an attack when she noticed that their clothes shimmered with the same heat haze she'd noticed earlier, and she tilted her head, wondering.

The first youth dropped to the floor, inched under her body with his legs sticking out to the right until his head was beneath her pelvis. She felt his breath on her, his tongue touching, then lapping away between her spread legs, just in front of the pounding she was now getting from Kylo Ren's enormous erection. She groaned out loud, watched as the second man slid underneath her with his legs sticking out to the left, took a breast into his mouth and sucked hard, pinching the other nipple in tandem.

Her arms shook. There was no question now that she was going to come again, as the three of them tried their best to push her into a climax.

There was a voice beneath her, and it said, apropos of absolutely nothing. 'There's something about you and a forest. We met in a forest. You fell into my arms. I'd have done this to you then if not for the whole tedious consent thing.'

She fought off the pleasure with a force of will. 'Consent? You said I had to ask you if I wanted to try anything. You didn't ask me about these two – I thought they were real.'

The voice beneath her chuckled. 'Dark side, Rey. Dark side.'

She managed to string it out long enough to feel his rhythm falter, the strokes become more random and the grunts of effort louder, and then she couldn't stop herself any longer, licked and sucked and fucked into the most intense orgasm of her life.

Her shout echoed around the clearing and went on long enough that she had to draw breath, stars flashing in front of her eyes as he spilled himself into her.

Then her cheek landed in the moss.

My romance novels The Car Crash Bride and The Postman's Daughter by Sally Anne Palmer are available now on Amazon, should you be terribly bored and in need of something to do.


	5. Chapter 5

She dragged herself upright, wincing. Usually, when she dreamed about him she was naked in bed and the manual stimulation she needed to achieve real life as well as imaginary orgasm was no problem. This time she'd been fully clothed, and she'd just masturbated through three climaxes while wearing her trousers, leaving her clitoris so sore she had to walk with bent legs. She spent the rest of her the day on her flat on her back recovering.

The morning brought some welcome news – a recruitment mission to visit some of Leia's old contacts on a couple of the friendlier systems in the quadrant, and by friendlier, Leia meant the Resistance wouldn't be shot on sight, but might get the chance to say hello first.

Everyone was afraid of Kylo Ren and what he'd do to any world found harbouring the rebels, except for Rey. It was hard to be frightened of someone you'd seen naked, or of someone who thought you were beautiful, or of someone who'd admitted they were sexually attracted to you while you were unconscious. Actually, the last one was a bit creepy, she should probably just stick to imagining him naked.

The plot was going surprisingly well. First, she'd managed to lure him in, and he'd been in her enough times now to be sure he'd taken the bait, and now second, she had to bind him to her, keep him interested, and the best way to do that was to disappear for a few days. A short trip in the Falcon would be just the ticket.

She lasted a whole day without thinking about him, spending it schmoozing Leia's elderly supporters, playing dejarik with Chewbacca and whiling away the evening in drinking games with Finn and Poe, until Poe got so drunk he started up with the singing again. Rey went to bed sometime during the third chorus of 'Kylo Ren's Helmet.'

The second day was slightly more trying, because she was woken in the early hours by the sound of two people loudly enjoying each other next door, while she lay in her single bed and thought about Kylo Ren naked.

The same image popped into her head a few times during the day when she was supposed to be lifting things or espousing how great a free life with the Resistance was compared with slavery under the First Order. The evening was dreadful, because Finn spent the majority of it ignoring her and making gooey eyes at Poe, while he composed a promising little ditty entitled 'Kylo Ren's Lightsaber' which wasn't about his light up sword.

Rey stomped back to her bedroom, frustrated and lonely, and knowing that both of those things probably meant that she'd dream about him involuntarily. Sitting on her bed, kicking at the floor, it dawned on her she'd barely lasted two days without seeing him and she was certain she couldn't go a third, so she stayed awake most of the night reading monumentally dull books on how to be a Jedi and sneaked into a storage cupboard while everyone else was having breakfast.

She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and waited. He appeared in front of her the minute she'd entered her trance, fully dressed and already fumbling with the front of his trousers.

'Where have you been?' he demanded. 'Two days and no word. I thought something had happened to you.'

'I'm on holiday.'

'On holiday? You're supposed to be plotting to overthrow me, how've you got time for a holiday?' He squinted in the dim light. 'Where are you anyway?'

She simply waited, said nothing.

'I know this room.' His eyes narrowed to tiny points. 'I am not doing this, with you, on this ship. I never want to see this ship again. And if I find out where it is, I will fire every gun I have at it, whether you're on it or not. Are we clear?'

She shrugged. 'Up to you. But this is the only time I'm going to be able to see you for the next three weeks.'

He disappeared. She leaned against the wall and waited. If he had taken the lure, he'd be back. He materialised again only a minute or two later. 'Three weeks?'

'It might be more like three months. I'm going to be busy plotting against you for a while.'

He heaved a sigh of resignation. 'Choose another room, then. I used to play in here all the time when I was little. There's a pipe in the ceiling that carries sound straight up to the flight deck.'

'Which is where your mother is sitting right now,' she said with an arch smile.

He disappeared again, popped back again a few seconds later, spluttering. 'I'm the ruler of most of the known galaxy. I am not having sex with you in a cupboard with my mother listening.'

'Then make sure you're very quiet.'

'I'm not really here.' He was smug. 'She wouldn't hear me anyway.'

Rey smiled beatifically. 'She will if I start calling your name.'

'You wouldn't.'

'Try me.'

He sealed a hand over her mouth, yanked down her trousers, extracted himself from his own, heaved her leg into the air and she shot upright at the sudden, harsh friction, back straightening as he rammed himself between her legs.

'My mother walked in on me once,' he volunteered, in between thrusts. 'I was about fourteen, in my bedroom, having some private Kylo time and she just walked in. It was the most embarrassing experience of my life. Everything just withered away while she stood there and watched.'

Angry sex. Angry, rough sex. Angry, rough, wall sex, of a kind she'd never had before and was really quite enjoying. She bit his hand, imagined the rest of her clothes gone and then lifted her legs off the floor, locking them around his waist. His hips banged her into the uneven metal.

And then, from outside, a knocking on the door. 'Rey, I know you're in there. I made up another song.'

Poe was clearly still drunk from the night before, but worse than that, he'd found a guitar. 'This one's called the 'The Ballad of Rey and Kylo,' he said. And he began to play.

' _He met her walking in the woods, that fair young maiden Rey,_

 _He fell in love - he knocked her out, he carried her away,_

 _She woke up in his chair of pain, she gasped, 'You're Kylo Ren,'_

 _'I'm so conflicted, boo hoo hoo, why don't you call me Ben?'_

 _She fell in love - his charm, his smile, his voice as smooth as velvet,_

 _His dashing looks, his raven locks, his great big shiny helmet.'_

She snorted with laughter.

'Can't you shut him up? This is hard enough as it is,' the helmet owner complained.

Rey pushed his hand away from her mouth, giggling.

But Poe simply sang on.

 _'She did her Jedi training, learning to lift rocks higher,_

 _And every night, when Luke was gone, she fucked Ben by the fire,_

 _She thought she'd turned him when he went and diced up old man Snoke,_

 _But Rey's always been a sucker for a bastard in a cloak.'_

'I'm going to go and punch him,' the cloak owner said grimly, the pace of his hips slowing, concentration lost.

Poe still wasn't finished.

 _'He rules the stars, she's here with us, and now he wants her dead,_

 _He's put a thirty million credit bounty on her head,_

 _But though poor Rey is all alone, her love it doesn't waver,_

 _She spends all night just dreaming of his throbbing great lightsaber.'_

Rey laughed out loud.

Quite clearly, from somewhere up above came the sound of Leia's voice. 'Rey? Is that you? What are you doing?'

The owner of the lightsaber no longer had a throbbing great one, it contracted like a salt dipped slug, and slithered out of her.

She caught his chin in one hand. 'Privacy is important,' she said. 'Remember that next time you decide to try something on me without my consent.'

He gave her a thoroughly disgusted look and vanished.

I also write romance novels, as well as dodgy lyrics. The Car Crash Bride and The Postman's Daughter are available now on Amazon.


	6. Chapter 6

She was back on Phanophanopia a few days later, feeling quite pleased with herself and planning the next part of the plot. She'd proved he was hooked enough to come when she called, against his better judgement, so now it was only a matter of suggesting that they meet up in person and setting a trap. Occasionally, she felt slightly guilty about stringing him along in this way, but justified it because she was playing by his rules. He'd suggested they have meaningless, harmless, imaginary sex until they killed each other, which for him was going to be sooner rather than later.

She fell asleep that night looking forward to her dreams.

She awoke in the usual darkened bedroom, but the minute he arrived it transformed itself into a white walled chamber, full of light and mirrors. A large bed was positioned in the centre and he sat on it crosslegged, surrounded by his reflection on all sides. She took a seat opposite him cautiously, reserving her judgment on the set up until she'd worked out what he'd imagined it for. Whatever it was he had planned, he was very enthusiastic about it, bubbling over with repressed energy and smiling in an out of character way she found slightly threatening.

'I want to try something new,' he said. 'So, I'm asking first.'

He'd come to her in pyjamas, although unless he'd travelled several light years closer, it probably wasn't the middle of the night for him. His chest was still gleaming at her in the daylight diffusing through the long, white voile curtains blowing about the windows and she ran a finger down it, just because she could.

'Are you going to tell me what it is?'

'No. But if you're uncomfortable with what I'm doing at any point, just tell me and I'll stop. Alright?'

She couldn't see a problem with that approach, so she nodded.

He made no move to remove his clothes, or to kiss her, just lay back on the bed. 'Would you like to sit on my face?'

She couldn't see a problem with that approach either, particularly if he was going to be so polite about it, so she hauled off her nightdress and rode his tongue. He didn't quite take her all the way though, because just as she was reaching the point of climax he lifted her off, wiping his mouth.

'I want you to watch yourself in the mirrors,' he instructed, directing her back onto her hands and knees, and piling up enough pillows beneath her elbows that she happily tipped forward onto them. As expected, he took up a position behind her, but instead of the penetration she was anticipating, she got his fingers inside her instead, two of them, pumping in and out.

'Watch yourself,' he ordered, with a little more authority.

She did. The mirrors were positioned so she could clearly see what was going on behind her, a view she didn't normally benefit from, and the sight of him pushing his hand in and out of her did funny things to her stomach. A flush rose to her cheeks; arousal pooled in her belly.

He didn't let her come though, pulling his fingers out when she was getting close and backing off. He bent closer, folding his body into an uncomfortable position behind her, and his tongue entered the cavity his fingers had just left. She watched him in the mirror, spreading her legs and staring at his tongue disappearing inside her. It wasn't the sensation that was getting her so hot and flustered, because he'd done this to her before, it was watching him do it, watching him pleasure her like that that had her backing up as he pushed forward. She put a hand between her legs and fingered herself in time with the penetration, and as soon as he noticed that, he lifted his head, and put his fingers back inside her instead, three this time, four, twisting to fit as much of his hand in as possible.

Sweat rose on her forehead. She touched herself, his fingers dragged in and out and all the time he watched her reaction in the mirrors. Then his head lowered, tongue extended and came into contact with part of her he'd never touched before. The very tip of his tongue circled the pucker of her backside, then retreated as he waited to see what she'd do. She didn't object though, just paused, transfixed, as he came back in and his tongue circled her rim instead.

She wasn't sure what to do with the feeling inside her. He teased the pink flesh gently, flicking over it with his tongue and then he brought his mouth closer to the hole and his tongue pushed inside it. Her fingers stopped moving, she caught her breath and then a hot wave of lust coursed through her, so strong it took her breath away.

She hung there, watching his tongue enter her backside, fire in her cheeks, attention held by his eyes, fixed to her face in the mirror. This was unquestionably the most extreme thing anyone had ever done to her and it made her feel filthy, wanton, debauched. It didn't last long though, because he was soon straightening up, serious of expression and although she'd forgotten the hand still buried inside her she felt it come out, and watched his middle finger slowly, slowly approach the place he'd just kissed into warm, wet dampness and drag over it a few times.

Then it pushed inside.

Her legs buckled, she fell forward, caught herself on the pillows, her hips still elevated but her head down now, buried in the mattress. She no longer wanted to watch what he was doing, she could feel it well enough. He had a finger inside her, moving slowly and carefully, rubbing into and out of her opening repeatedly, testing, stretching. He wasn't going deep, and he wasn't going fast, but she knew where he was going and the filthy, wanton feeling inside her made her writhe her hips on the bed.

She hid her face in the pillows, not wanting him to stop, but not really sure if she wanted him to carry on either. Then his other hand pushed inside the orifice he usually used, and she groaned. His hands worked together, a double penetration that alternated in depth and she cried out with the tremendous sensation of it. She could feel the pressure of his finger, now deep inside her arse, rubbing against the fingers of his other hand, only a thin sliver of muscle separating them. She could climax from this, quite easily, and quite soon, but he didn't let her, pulling both hands away when she was still getting close and she took a few deep breaths, her body her own again.

There was a smell of something sweet in the air, a wet drip of something on her back, but the room was silent, holding its breath. She braced herself.

There it was.

The head of his cock, probing at her entrance, his hands spreading her backside apart and then that smooth, wide tip breaching her body for the first time. She whimpered, face down, not daring to look. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she needed time to adjust and he waited for a minute before inching deeper.

He slid inside her slowly, so slowly, the pressure and the friction inside her so tight she sucked in lungfuls of air to manage it. He pulled out a little and her body dragged back with his instinctively, then pushed forward. It felt like it would never end. Slow and tight and more and more and more until she was completely filled by him, possessed in a way that went beyond the physical.

He broke the silence. 'Look at yourself.'

She didn't really want to, raised her head reluctantly, taking some weight back onto her arms. He knelt behind her, hands resting lightly on her hips, a look in his eye somewhere between pride and exultation and while she was watching he pulled back a few centimetres, then drove himself forward again.

The mirror showed quite clearly that there was a man's cock shoved, balls deep, up her arse.

She hung her head. This shouldn't be happening. She shouldn't be allowing this. And more than that, it shouldn't be making her feel this way. Dirty. Used. Loving it.

Something in her face encouraged him to pull out, push back in against with a little more force and she arched like a cat, back quartering into him, her fingers clawing at the bed.

'Look at yourself.' His voice was low and husky, and he thrust in again, drawing a cry from her throat at the tightness and the pulling deep within her body.

'I am everything you hate. I'm the enemy. I'm the dark side. I'm the First Order. I'm the Sith. But you – you'll let me fuck you any way I want. There's nothing you won't let me do.'

She looked at herself in the mirror and saw that he was right. Felt that he was right in the couple of quick thrusts he gave her, felt that he was right in the response of her body beneath him, the throb in her swollen clitoris, the ache in her breasts, the wetness leaking down the insides of her thighs. She wanted this. She wanted him.

The triumph in his eyes faded away, and a new expression took its place. 'That's because you're mine, isn't it?'

She heard the thread of concern behind the words, the confusion, but was unable to answer the question any other way.

'Yes.' She hung her head.

There was a long pause. 'Would you like to come now?'

'Yes.'

He reached his hand around, flexed his hips just a little, rubbed at the proud little nub between her legs and she convulsed around him, her muscles clenching around his thick intrusion, her hips raising, sliding, dragging him further in. She came down gasping, felt him readying himself to pull out and stopped him with a flick of her eyes. 'Come inside me,' she demanded.

He straightened up, without looking away, met and held her gaze and seated himself fully inside her again with a few sharp thrusts.

She bit her lip, held herself still, accepted the strong push and the sudden jerk, the stretching and the friction, the loud groans and the panting behind her, the complete loss of control and finally, the wet warmth inside as his climax took him in waves and he shouted her name as he let go.

It was over quickly, and he was careful as he pulled out, but when she collapsed onto the mattress, curling into a ball he stretched out his hand, forcibly rolled her over until she was held tight against his side, his arm around her, her head in the crook of his shoulder, listening to the slowing thrum of his pulse.

Neither of them spoke for a very long time.


	7. Chapter 7

She had gone too far. That was pretty obvious. What had started as some harmless sex and a plot to kill Kylo Ren had metamorphized into something else altogether, because she'd seen something in the wall of mirrors she hadn't realised was there.

'How are we going to kill Kylo Ren?' Poe had returned to his favourite topic over breakfast. 'Rey? Any ideas?'

She shook her head. She no longer wanted him dead. Or at least, not right at the moment. Not until she'd figured out what all of this meant.

'I don't think we can kill him,' she mused. 'Not unless he makes himself vulnerable. Not unless he has a weakness.'

'You're his weakness,' Poe told her, with a confident grin. 'He wouldn't have killed Snoke for you otherwise.'

'He did that for himself,' she demurred. 'I don't mean anything to him.'

She thought quite hard about what to say to him all that day and into the next, wanting to get the words right before she launched herself into another encounter for which she was badly prepared.

He didn't come to her immediately when she entered the dream, she had to wait for quite some time, spending it building a hotel room with a balcony, a scenic view of an ancient castle surrounded by tiny sidestreets. He didn't speak straightaway, just joined her outside as she gazed out over the city.

'Where are we?' he asked eventually, when it became clear she wasn't going to speak. He stood an arm's length away and made no move towards her.

'Somewhere I saw in a picture book. I don't know where it is.'

He was silent for a minute. 'Sarcos Three, I think. I've been there. It's nice.' He took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry about last time. I went too far. '

She eyed him carefully, spoke the prepared words. 'Make love to me.'

He released a breath with a nervous laugh. 'Is that all? I thought you were going to say you didn't want to see me again.'

'Make love to me,' she repeated. She didn't want his apology, or his guilt. 'You said I could ask you to do anything, try anything and you wouldn't judge. That's what I want. I want to know if it feels different if you pretend you care.'

He winced at that, smoothed his face. 'Then I'll give you the bad romance novel experience. For which we need candles.' He waved a hand and the lights in the apartment went out, to be replaced by the flickering glow of melting tallow.

'And music.' From somewhere out in the street a string quartet began to play, a low and melancholy tune.

'A dress with a very long zip.' She glanced down to find that the outfit she usually imagined herself wearing had been replaced by a floor length, shimmering silk number with shoulder straps and a low neck.

'And a backstory.' He tapped a finger on the balcony. 'How about this – Supreme Leader Snoke is dead, slain by the hand of his disgraced apprentice, Kylo Ren. On the run from the First Order, Ren find his way to Sarcos Three, where he forges a new life as a …fencing instructor. By lucky chance, Ren meets Rey, the beautiful young Jedi who risked everything to save him from the dark side, only for him to betray her at the last moment. Desperate for her approval, Ren tricks Rey into a meeting. Thinking that she's waiting for her lover, the fucking annoying and surprisingly short-lived Poe Dameron, Rey finds Kylo Ren in his place instead. She turns, and says…' He beckoned to her with an expectant expression.

'You?' she offered, not really buying into the whole roleplay idea.

He tutted, 'Not very original but I can work with it.' He cleared his throat. 'Yes, me. I know you don't want to see me, but I couldn't stay away. I'm sorry let you down. I'm sorry I hurt you. Can you give me another chance?'

She wasn't completely sure if this was roleplay after all, or something more serious disguised as a joke. Testing, she said, 'What have you done with Poe?'

'Killed him. He deserved it. I am still Kylo Ren, remember.'

She turned away, wrapped her arms around herself. 'Never once have I forgotten who you are.'

'I've forgotten who I am,' he said softly. 'I killed Snoke for you. I left the First Order for you. I threw everything I had away and ran halfway across the galaxy to be with you.'

She shook head, unable to maintain the pretence. 'You killed Snoke for yourself. And the rest of it – that's what I wanted you to do. It's not what you actually did.'

'No,' he agreed. 'But I should have.'

She glanced at him sharply, but there was no hint of humour in his face, and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not. 'It's not too late.' She kept her voice light, not stupid enough to hope that he'd agree this time. 'You can still do all of that. Throw it all away and live with me on Sarcos Three.'

He came to stand beside her, propped himself on the balcony. 'I might. If you give me another chance.'

She dismissed that with a shake of her head. 'I trusted you once. I believed you. I won't make the same mistake again.'

'Then at least let me make love to you. So you can feel how much I care.'

He reached out and took her hand, curling his thumb into her palm and stroking it. She frowned at her hand in his, shot him a look, uncertain.

'Rey could feel her treacherous body respond as the dashing Kylo Ren held her hand,' he narrated, flipping back into the roleplay following that brief intermission of what felt like something else.

'No, I can't,' she whispered.

'She'd wanted him from the day they met in the forest, when she'd swooned away in his arms, dazzled by his air of dark mystery and enigmatic charm.'

She nearly smiled. 'I think you missed the word 'dead' out of that sentence.'

'Her bosom quivered and her knickers grew damp as he drew her into his arms.'

'You haven't imagined me wearing knickers.'

He pulled her against him, lowered his mouth to pour the words into her ear. 'She knew he'd be the best lover she'd ever had. She couldn't wait to feel his throbbing member enter her box of delights.'

She laughed at that. 'Throbbing member? Where are you getting this stuff?'

He pulled back, made a disapproving face. 'Chewbacca is not as innocent as he looks. There were always piles of this sort of trash in his room. I used to steal them when he wasn't looking. Is it alright if I kiss you now?'

She nodded, twined her arms around his neck, and stayed locked in that position for a very long time. It was like a first kiss, tentative, exploratory, a little rough around the edges. He spent a long time just getting to know her lips, imprinting soft and tender touches across every available surface, avoiding the temptation of her open mouth until he was done with being chaste. Then, when he finally did make use of his tongue he encouraged her to kiss him back, opening himself to scrutiny in turn. He itemised the inside of her mouth, learning how she liked to be kissed, and she returned the favour, finding him willing to demonstrate, with a sigh, or a tilt of the head, or an encouraging squeeze what he liked from her.

This was something that they should have done before, she thought, tight in his embrace and kissing now with both knowledge and passion, taken the time to get to know each other properly before jumping into bed.

When he broke the kiss with a gentle sigh and a significant look and tucked her hand beneath his arm to escort her into the bedroom, there was still a lot more exploring to be done. He stepped behind her, sucking lightly at the exposed flesh of her neck in a place he'd realised made her shiver and unzipped the dress from back to floor, the material whispering to the carpet in a long glide. He did not, for once, move straight for any of the obvious places, preferring to take his time kissing her neck, her shoulder, the inside of her wrist.

She undressed him slowly, carefully, her lips engaged in finding and investigating every muscle, every sinew, every square centimetre of flesh. He took over before her curiosity was exhausted, laying her back on the covers and starting from her toes up, touching, caressing, lingering over her body until her skin was tingling with the aftermath of every place he'd kissed. She relaxed into it, sank beneath the welter of responses he drew from her with lips, and hands, closed her eyes and let go. Every time she'd been with him before had been all about faster, and harder and more extreme, whereas this went on for hours, a slow, smooth swell of feeling that built in her head as well as her body.

He took her through a range of positions, all of which involved looking deep into her eyes, and during most of which he was able to kiss her, and she spread her legs for him and kissed him back. There was nothing in her consciousness but him, by the end, nothing of her life before or after this time in bed, no thoughts or desires or plots apart from the need to hold him tight, to run her fingers through his hair again, feel the muscles of his jaw work under his kiss.

Her orgasm was a different kind of climax, one that had no need for manual stimulation, a feeling that grew from her heart and her head and suffused her whole body with contentment. He was smiling by the end of it, rested his forehead on hers and breathed deeply a few times as he found his own release.

He put his arm around her and she cuddled against him, candlelight reflecting strange shadows off his chest, the music from outside a lilting lullaby.

'Who was the first person you did that with?' she asked, drawing idle patterns with the tip of her finger on his stomach.

He kissed the top of her head. 'She never told me her name. Not her real name anyway. I was young, sixteen maybe. I met her in a bar. I shouldn't have been there, but I'd had a fight with my parents about something or other, and I was looking for an excuse to make them worry. I went back to her ship, didn't come home for four days. Slept for about a week afterwards as I recall. I was exhausted.'

'And are you seeing anyone now?'

'Does it matter?'

She considered that from all directions, could find only one answer. 'Yes. It matters.'

He sighed, squeezed her a bit tighter against his chest. 'I have an arrangement with a couple of women. I see them if I need to. They're very discrete about it.'

The confession made her uncomfortable. 'How often do you need to see them?'

'Hardly ever. Not since I met you, anyway.'

The bundle of tension in her stomach dissolved somewhat. 'And what do they do for you?'

'Whatever I ask. They don't judge. Why are you so interested?'

'I'm not.' She retreated quickly.

His fingers stroked her arm. 'I'm flattered that you are. And are you seeing anyone? In real life?'

'I wouldn't be here with you if I were,' she pointed out.

'And who was the first person you had sex with? I've told you about mine.'

She attempted an airy laugh. 'He was no one.'

'From Jakku then, not one of the Resistance pilots? No one I've met?'

'Why are you so interested?'

'I'm not,' he said, but she could see the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. 'I'm not.'

'I'm flattered that you are.' She raised herself onto his chest, put her chin on her hand so he'd know she was being serious. 'Thank you for this. It was nice. I appreciate it.'

He ran a finger down her cheek. 'My pleasure.'

She fell asleep in his arms.

The Car Crash Bride and The Postman's Daughter by Sally Anne Palmer are available on Amazon.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a strange feeling inside her when she woke, and she carried it around for the rest of the day.

'What is wrong with you?' Finn asked eventually, after several hours of suspicious looks. 'Why can't you stop smiling?'

Rey wasn't really sure, but it had something to do with a lingering sense of contentment she still carried from last night, and the expectation she felt for the night to come. Never had she been so desperate to get back to bed.

The plot to kill Kylo Ren didn't even cross her mind, although the target of the plot loomed large within her consciousness. She felt off balance, dizzy almost, and she knew, somewhere at the back of her mind, that she had still gone too far, but she couldn't bring herself to pull back. She went to bed early, smiling, willing herself into a dream the minute she was alone.

He was waiting, and she'd only just arrived and opened her eyes when the room went dark.

'Do you trust me?' he asked, from somewhere close by, an edge to his voice harder than the mellow tones of last night.

She frowned. 'No. Yes. Maybe. Why?'

'I wanted to try something different, and you won't enjoy it if you don't trust me.'

'Is it like the something different you tried on me last time?'

'No, it's not that.'

'Then I trust you, in the bedroom at least. Outside is a different matter.'

'If you want me to stop, say so this time,' he instructed, and his voice had turned serious.

She felt his fingers wrap around hers, his hand leading her across the room and helping her lie on a metal bed. Restraints clicked into place around her wrists and ankles and with a hum, the bed lifted her into a vertical position and the hood over her eyes was removed. He stood next to a portable cabinet, closed and locked, and he'd put his mask on.

She grinned widely. 'It's been a long time since I was frightened of you.'

'Tell me the location of the rebel base.'

She laughed out loud. 'Of course not.'

He reached out with both hands, took a firm hold of the material at her throat and ripped her top in two, flicking the pieces open to reveal her chest.

'Tell me the location of the rebel base.'

'If that wasn't imaginary I'd be really angry with you right about now.'

He bent down, pulled open the top drawer of the cabinet and removed a black handled contraption, with a series of soft leather strands attached to one end. At least, they were soft when he ran them over her breasts the first time, not so soft when his arm raised, and the ends came down across her nipple a few seconds later.

Everything inside her clenched all at once and she jolted forward into the restraints. The end of the whip came down on her other breast, just a light tap really, nothing too hard, but it was enough, and she felt her face flush, watching the leather make contact with her skin. There were another two strokes, one on either side which left her flesh pink, her nipples hard and tingling and a powerful throb between her legs.

'Tell me the location of the rebel base.'

She laughed, shakily. 'No. You can hurt me as much as you like but I'm not going to tell you that.'

'I'm not going to hurt you.' His voice was masked by the speaker and it didn't sound very convincing.

He extracted two pegs from the cabinet, showed them to her slowly, demonstrating their grip and then fixed them, one after the other, to her nipples.

She breathed through her mouth to manage the pinching, squeezing pressure on her flesh. 'What was it you just said?' she squeaked, unable to tear her eyes from the little brown mounds throbbing in a wooden embrace, bucking her hips because the tension in her groin needed some kind of outlet.

'I'm not going to hurt you, much,' he corrected, inserting a gloved hand between her legs and rubbing her through her trousers hard enough to make her shudder at the sensation it brought.

She was sweating by now, but the ripping sound the rest of her clothes made as he stripped them away and the blast of cool air did nothing to alleviate the flush. He went for the next drawer down in his box of tricks, coming up with a long stick with a ball on the end, whose purpose was unknown but probably orgasm related. He showed it to her, leaving her none the wiser.

'Why don't you just fuck me with the mask on and we'll call it quits?' she offered.

He came up very close. 'Watch your mouth, or I'll put something in it.'

Then a button on the underside of the bed was pushed and she was helpless to resist as her legs were stretched wider and wider apart.

She said 'Fuck,' and he put the ball end of the device in her mouth, as promised.

It didn't seem to do very much, just tasted of plastic, but when he extracted it, switched it on and held it against her clitoris the vibrations sang throughout her body, tumbling her into an instant, stomach clenching orgasm. She had to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth afterwards.

'Tell me the location of the rebel base,' he requested, quietly.

'I will not.'

'Good.' Even behind the speaker she heard the satisfaction in that response.

He bent for the next drawer, rattled around in it a bit, considering, and came up with a large pink phallus, both wider and longer than the version he kept in his trousers. She regarded him nervously as he showed it to her and she tested the restraints, knowing she could imagine them away quite easily if she wanted, but choosing not to, for the moment.

'Care to reconsider?' he suggested.

She said, quite deliberately, 'Fuck off.'

He put it in her mouth, and her lips stretched wide around it, her tongue flattened as it poked around her teeth. There was no way that was ever going to fit inside her. He extracted it when the spit started leaking from the corner of her mouth, then bent down, touched the bulbous head to the gap between her spread thighs, then paused.

'Do you want to watch?' he asked.

She nodded, and a mirror appeared, with a delightful picture of her pinioned legs, moist and glistening opening and the shaped and moulded plastic that he shoved, quite easily as it turned out, up inside her.

Her mind went white, she banged against the restraints, as the shaft sank deep and she felt her body straining to accommodate it. She sucked in a lungful of air when it came out, all the way, and she watched it in the mirror plunging back into her again, held by a shaking, black gloved hand.

'I will tell you anything you like,' she gasped, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the bed, aware that the vibrating ball machine was approaching rapidly across her thigh. 'As long as you don't stop.'

Then her ability to speak was temporarily removed, although her ability to shout remained unaffected. It was like a storm of rapture, the tight pinch at her chest, the artificial shudder of the vibrations tormenting her clitoris, the unbearable stretching of the penetration between her legs, her utter lack of control over any of it and it swept her away.

'Fair enough,' he said. 'I know the rebels are on Phanophanopia anyway. Tell me the name of the first person you slept with.'

She screamed it. 'Kylo Ren.'

'At last.' He moved the apparatus around a bit, extending the orgasm. 'Always scream my name when you come in future. But what was the name of the first person you slept with?'

She came down eventually, gasping for air. 'Kylo Ren.'

The vibrations shut down abruptly and the quite effective penis substitute came out with a popping noise.

'What?'

She couldn't see properly, and almost all of her was shaking, so when he hit a quick release button and the restraints disengaged she simply fell forward for him to catch. He carried her to a waiting couch, laid her down carefully and flung the mask off, picking up her hand.

'What was it you just said?'

'You know the rebels are on Fanny Fanny Peer?' she quavered, struggling with basic concepts such as focus and speaking.

The black blur beside her waved a hand. 'Of course. There's only one planet in the right time zone with that colour sky and that combination of plant life, only one abandoned Resistance complex on it and only one cleaning cupboard where the drones I've had set up since you first showed me where you were say you're sleeping. I just wanted to see if you trusted me enough to tell me yourself.'

There was a more important point at stake. She rubbed her face and attempted to concentrate.

'If you know where we are, why haven't you attacked?'

The man kneeling beside her shrugged. 'I decided a while ago that I didn't want you dead. I put the biggest bounty on your head I could think of so that you'd be more valuable alive than dead, and anyone would think twice about killing you. Am I really the first person you've slept with?'

She nodded, closing her eyes and waiting for the world to stop spinning.

'But I thought you were quite experienced. Adventurous even. That first time, in the throne room, you had me on my knees and you weren't self-conscious or nervous about it at all. You knew exactly what you wanted. It was amazing. Incredible to be part of. I've been struggling to think of things to try that might interest someone with that level of confidence ever since. And now you tell me you're a virgin?'

She kept her eyes closed, although it was with embarrassment now. 'It's all in my head,' she replied. 'Real life is another matter.'

'Even in your head why would you go along with all of this?'

'You know why.' A blush came to her cheeks, although her arousal had faded into a background hum.

He shifted, placed a kiss in the middle of her forehead and stood up. 'Real life is a different thing,' he said. 'I'll let you know when and where.'

She cracked an eye open. 'When and where?'

'Real life, Rey. I want to meet you, and do this properly, in person. Not this, exactly, I couldn't carry half of the equipment I'd need, but we should meet. Don't let anyone else touch you until then, if you want them to still be alive afterwards.'

With that he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

The plot to kill Kylo Ren had been incredibly successful. The target of the plot was now busy setting up his own assassination, in complete ignorance of the fact that it was his doom he was meeting, and not her. All she had to do was tip off the rest of the Resistance to whatever location he chose, and they could get there before him, and cut him down in a hail of blasters. She probably wouldn't even need to turn up. The galaxy could carry on without fear of being choked to death, or shouted at. It would be easy.

But what if they missed? What if the Resistance couldn't kill him and he realised she'd betrayed him, even if she ran he'd hunt her through her dreams across the stars. The thought of that betrayal made her uneasy. She trusted him, despite herself, for the simple reason that she'd foolishly given away her location and he'd chosen to do nothing about it. He'd put a bounty on her head as a strange sort of protection, and while she'd had no sign of affection from him, no protestations of love, maybe simply not killing her was as close to that kind of emotion as he could get.

She kept well away from Poe and Finn for the next couple of days, just in case the drones he'd mentioned were still active, and within the complex. Her dreams were blank and lonely.

On the third day, Poe caught her heading out into the forest for a run, and waggled a screen in her face. 'Your map man is back,' he said. 'He's sent you another message.'

She took the pad from his hands, looked at the drawing that had been posted beneath a clip of her gesturing randomly at a pile of unsuspecting rocks before turning to the camera with a thumbs up sign. She cringed to think he'd seen it. The map showed a palace, the towers and turrets sketched in a rough scribble, with more attention paid to the network of streets around it, a dotted line marking out the route, which ended in an X and the caption 'my room'.

'Do you know who this is from?' Poe regarded her with more than a hint of curiosity. 'This is the second time you've had one of these. If you know him, why doesn't he just contact you directly rather than drawing silly pictures? What's he trying to hide?'

She opened her mouth, thought for a second and then gave up thinking and did as her heart told her instead. 'I know exactly who this is from.' She handed the screen back. 'Some sad and lonely man sitting in his bedroom fantasising about me. I imagine there are men all over the galaxy watching these videos and having... well… having some private time.'

He stared at the screen again with a frown. 'Maybe I can get the tech people to work out where these messages are coming from – it's quite difficult to hide codes completely. I might be able to track the message. Whoever he is, he might be dangerous.'

She gave a thin smile. 'I'm sure he is dangerous. I'm also sure I can handle it.'

'I might just check it out anyway. And I'll ask the General if she recognises the place on the map, just to be on the safe side.'

Poe wandered off, still squinting at the screen, and Rey jogged far enough away to make him think she'd set off, before turning back to her room, throwing everything she owned into a small bag and heading for the landing area. The Resistance no longer had a fleet of ships sitting around waiting for someone to come up with a rubbish plan to get them all destroyed, and she couldn't possibly take the Falcon without running the risk of it being shot at by every First Order gun ever built, so instead she had to hitch a ride on a cargo run going in the wrong direction. It took nearly a whole day of careful negotiation, small scale bribery and some good old-fashioned Jedi mind control before she finally arrived on Sarcos Three.

The capital city had been built around the castle she'd seen in the picture and recreated in a dream, a castle built by a centuries dead prince as a wedding gift for a princess who'd fallen in love with someone else and threw herself off the highest turret on their wedding night. It was romantic in a doomed, depressing kind of way, and consequently, it was a huge tourist attraction and the streets around it were thronged with couples taking images of themselves, strolling hand in hand and generally looking happy and getting in the way.

Rey weaved a solitary path through the crowds, struggling to remember the route indicated on the map, losing herself in the maze of side streets and back alleys. It was by accident that she stumbled into a small square, and saw him sitting at a table on the other side, sipping from a tiny cup, with his copious nose stuck in a book.

There was a circle of empty tables and chairs around him although every other café was heaving with people. He was clearly trying to be incognito, because he'd abandoned the black and the scowl, and was sporting tan coloured trousers and a loose white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and several buttons open at the neck. Always fond of cutting edge headgear, he'd replaced the mask with a hat instead, the brim in a rakish slant over his forehead, angled so that the shade it cast camouflaged the faded scar on his cheek.

She made it to his table without him looking up. 'Great disguise.'

He blinked at her in surprise. 'Is that sarcasm?'

Rey considered the wide berth he'd been given, the look of deep suspicion on the faces of the other tourists. 'Of course not. Hello, by the way.'

He clattered to his feet, pushing his chair back noisily and gesturing to the one next to it. 'Hello.'

She thought, for a brief second, that he might be about to kiss her on the cheek, but the action faltered as soon as it had started, and he simply sat down again, a little flushed. She realised then, that despite, or even because of, the fact that she'd had oral sex, public sex, anal sex, romantic sex and bondage sex with him, this might be a little awkward.

There was a short silence. He fiddled with his cup.

'What are you reading?' she blurted.

He pushed the book towards her and she read "How To Be Frightening: 10 Steps To Success." 'It's very illuminating,' he said. 'Lots of helpful suggestions.'

She grinned at that.

'How have you been?' His words came out a fraction too quickly.

She shrugged. 'Fine. Not letting anyone but you touch me in case they get murdered. '

He nodded. 'Good. Good.'

The pause was a bit too long. She kicked her bag further under the table. 'And you?'

'Hmm?

'How have you been?'

'Fine. Yes. Busy murdering people, as usual.'

She nodded. 'Excellent.'

There was a lightly longer silence. She tapped her hands on her knees.

'Have you come alone?' he asked suddenly.

'You mean – is this part of a plot to kill you?'

'The thought had crossed my mind.'

'I'm alone. Are you alone?'

'No. I brought the entire First Order along to watch us have sex.' He pulled a face.

She glanced at the floor, remembering the time he had brought people along to watch them have sex.

He said nothing. Her mind had gone blank. Then she recalled her dream: 'So - you've been here before?'

His nod appeared half confirmation, half relief that she'd thought of something else to ask. 'Family holiday. Luke gave a lecture on the folly of love. I wasn't really listening.'

Conversation petered out again. She shifted in her chair.

'Do you want to go for a walk or something?' He made it sound as if he wasn't really bothered either way.

'Alright.' She made it sound as if she wasn't bothered either.

He pushed back his chair, picked up her bag and made to leave, thrusting out a hand behind him as an afterthought. Rising, she took it automatically, and she knew from that moment on that everything was going to be alright.

She'd left the Resistance without so much as a goodbye, flown off to another planet to throw herself into the arms of a man she should be trying to kill, a man who would take her virginity, and when the formalities were over, would take her again in a variety of interesting and innovative ways. A man who was almost a stranger, a man with whom she was barely able to hold a normal conversation. But everything was going to be alright, because when she took his hand, she could feel a tremor in it, a tremble, a slight shake of the kind that had never been present in any of her dreams. And that meant he was just as nervous and awkward as she was.

'Or we could just go straight to bed?' she said.

He grinned at her. 'I love you.'

Hand in hand, she followed him into a nearby building, half running up the stairs. She didn't notice what the room looked like, whether there were candles or music or a balcony or not, because the minute he'd kicked the door shut behind them her eyes were closed, and she was being kissed.

It was much, much better in the flesh. Much better to be able to taste him, to feel him moving, warm and responsive under her hands. Less good when she had to stop kissing him to kick her boots off and even worse when he tried to remove the linen winding cloth she wore and ended up with it wrapped around her neck by accident. Much better when two sets of hands managed to pull off her top, his fingers pinched her nipples and she sighed, and continuing to improve when twenty fingers yanked down her trousers, leaving her utterly naked and him still fully dressed. She stuck her tongue down his throat and he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, ran an exploratory finger down her backside, over the pink puckered flesh and she bit his lower lip in warning while he smiled into the kiss. Moving round, the tip of his finger pushed inside her, and she groaned. He staggered across to the bed, lying her on her back, but she flipped him over, straddled his hips and began to rock. She made short work of the buttons on his shirt, then loosened his belt and pulled it free, bending over to occupy his mouth, using that moment of distraction to lash his wrists together and secure them to the headboard.

His eyes snapped open and he tested the restraints. 'This isn't what I had in mind,' he remarked, mildly.

'It's what I had in mind.' She finished with the zipper on his trousers, hauled them off with brute force, leaving him wearing an open shirt and nothing else. 'It was your turn last time. Now I get to do exactly what I want to you.'

With that she left the bed, padded over to her bag and removed the very large bottle of lubricant she'd brought with her. Back in his sight line again, she opened it up and spent a considerable period pouring it all over her middle finger and massaging it in, casting significant glances at his backside.

He articulated, quite distinctly. 'Oh, fuck.'

She flashed him a look. 'Watch your mouth, or I'll have to put something in it.'

He shimmied down the bed, leaving more space around his head, fixed her with an expectant look. 'I was hoping you would.'

She was torn between his mouth and his cock, eventually deciding that his climax could wait, climbing on top of him, winding her fingers into his hair and yanking his face up between her legs. He went at her with gusto, and she had difficulty pinning back the sensations to a manageable level. This was much better than her dreams, partly because the pleasure was more acute, but also because his tongue was hot as it worked within her, hot and wet and the noises he made as he licked her were absolute filth, and not something she'd ever imagined.

She pushed his head back onto the pillow, scanning him carefully, the strain of his arms against the bonds, the reddening skin around his mouth, the moisture streaking his chin, the expression in his eyes.

'Look at the state of you,' she murmured. She pulled his face back into contact with her body, still not breaking his gaze and heard him moan in the back of his throat. 'You love doing that, don't you?'

In answer he sucked on her clitoris until her nails raked his scalp, flicked it hard with his tongue. He was tied up, completely at her mercy, allowing himself to be used however she saw fit and enjoying it. More than that, he'd flown to meet her, suspecting that this was part of a plot to kill him, and not really caring either way. The realisation came to her abruptly.

'That's because you're mine, isn't it?'

With a single flick of his wrists, he snapped the belt, freeing his arms, slid out from underneath her and took up a position lying in front of her instead, spreading her legs wider. He slid a finger inside her as she watched and the feeling of it filling a space that had only ever been empty stopped her breath. Then there were two fingers inside her, then three, and the tip of his tongue danced a delicate pattern on her sensitive flesh.

He said, 'I wouldn't be here if I weren't.'

And the orgasm took her, shuddering though her from groin outward, and it wasn't over when he extracted his hand, pulled her down on the bed and sheathed himself inside her for the first time. She relaxed into it, the pulling, the stretching, the feel of another person entering her body and he absorbed the emotions flashing across her face with an intent stare that didn't waver until she'd taken him all in. Then he lowered his head and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed him back, welcoming the deep thrusts, the shallow withdrawals, the heat and the sliding, the intimacy and the noises that meant sex.

It was slow and gentle, but unstoppable, a determined reach towards a shared goal. She found herself gasping, straining with him, sweating with his sweat, moving with his rhythm, hearts beating together.

Then there was knock at the door. He didn't seem to hear it, but she tried to look around his shoulder.

The knock was followed quite quickly by a kick at the door, and his latest thrust stumbled as he glanced around.

Then there was a blaster at the door, and the sound of familiar voices.

Rey craned her neck, caught sight of Finn's waving finger. 'She's fucking Kylo Ren,' he shouted, just in case any of his companions were in any doubt about what was going on.

'He's got the most frightening arse in the galaxy,' Poe observed, somewhat more relaxed.

But worse was the voice that came next, a voice that meant that Rey was no longer fucking Kylo Ren but was left feeling the soft slither as he shrivelled out of her.

His mother gasped, in horrified tones. 'Benjamin.'


	10. Chapter 10

He rolled off the bed, came up in a low crouch clutching his lightsaber, then flung out a hand for the red one as well, igniting it with a burst of noise.

'Fetch my guitar, quick,' yelled Poe. 'And someone give me a rhyme for 'tiny'.'

Rey gestured, and the door slammed shut on the shocked faces of the Resistance.

'You said this wasn't a plot to kill me.' The top of the lightsaber waved in her direction, and then resolved itself into a position a couple of centimetres from her neck.

She shrugged. 'It isn't. The only thing I came armed with was that.' She flicked her eyes in the direction of the lubricant.

'Watching you holding that terrifies me far more than watching you holding one of these ever did.' He extinguished the blade, flipped it casually onto the bed.

'Is that it?' she asked in confusion. 'I say it's not a plot and you just believe me? Aren't you going to choke me or anything?'

He was already turning to the closet in search of his clothes. 'Not unless you want me to. I wasn't sure you liked that sort of thing.'

She reached out for the blade with professional curiosity.

He retrieved a set of black garments from the wardrobe and pulled on his trousers. 'No point in hiding now.'

She fumbled with the casing, attempting to work out how it had been put together.

'Try the catch on the left.' He made a start on his shirt and jacket as she explored the inner workings of the weapon, memorising its construction before snapping it closed again and handing it back.

She struggled back into her clothes with much less enthusiasm than when she'd taken them off, picked up her luggage and reached for the doorknob. And then turned back.

'So – this is over then?'

He stood and stared at her. 'Do you want it to be over?'

She made a stab at non-committal. 'I don't know. Do you?'

He rolled a shoulder. 'It never really got started.'

'It got started,' she said. 'But you didn't finish.'

He smiled. 'I'm happy to try again, if you let me know when and where, and don't tell my mother.'

She returned the grin. 'And until then I'll see you in my dreams?'

His face took on a serious cast. 'I'd prefer to see you in mine.'

'You don't dream about this sort of thing, you said.'

He glanced around with distaste. 'I don't dream about meaningless sex in hotel rooms, no. That's your fantasy. But I can show you mine.'

'Does it involve leather of any kind?' she asked suspiciously.

'No.' He held out a hand to her, twisted the doorknob with the other.

'Pegs, clamps, chains or collars?'

'None of the above.' He stepped into the corridor, tugging her after him and said pointedly to his mother: 'We've talked about this before. You agreed to knock and wait.' Then he turned to the remaining rebel fighters. 'Just shut up, the rest of you.' He pointed a warning finger at Poe. 'Especially you. This is all part of Rey's plot to kill me, so if you want me dead, then you'll have to let us go. I'll have died in less than an hour, I imagine.'

He marched them both off down the corridor, daring the pocket-sized Resistance to shoot him in the back.

'Will you be dead in an hour?' she asked, not giving them a second look.

'Of embarrassment – if I decide to tell you what I think I'm going to tell you. The shuttle is this way.' He steered them through streets that magically cleared in front of him, led the way to a landing pad that held a single, enormous, dual winged craft, escorted her on board, was instantly granted an exit vector out of the crowded Sarcos Three airspace and took off.

She sat in the co-pilot's chair and watched him as he concentrated. 'Devices then. Your fantasy involves some kind of machinery.'

He shook his head.

'Sex in public places? Costumes? Double penetration?'

He raised an eyebrow. 'That says far more about you than it does about me.'

He hit the button for autopilot, sent the ship off on an uncharted course she didn't recognise.

'Alright, I give up. What do you dream about?'

He took a deep breath. 'This.' His sweeping gesture took in the whole shuttle, and her with it, although he seemed keener on looking anywhere but in her direction. 'I dream of you and me disappearing off together and leaving everything else behind. That's what I was thinking about when I wandered into your dream in the first place. You dreamed about sex because you'd never had it, I dream about things I've never had too. For example - talking to someone who isn't afraid of me. Kissing someone I haven't paid first. Going to sleep with someone and not worrying that they'll have assassinated me before I wake up in the morning.'

She considered that for a minute. 'You dream of a normal relationship?'

He sighed. 'I dream of a normal life. One where every conversation isn't about power, or revenge, or murder. One where I have time for a holiday somewhere that I'm not recognised immediately. A life where you and I aren't on different sides.'

'A life where you and I have sex with each other until we die? A happy ending like in those bad romantic novels you're so fond of?'

'Yes. That life. That's the one I want.' There was a red flush on his cheeks, and he searched her face for an answer.

'That's the one I want too. Except with more sex and less talking about the weather or whatever it is you have in mind.'

'Doesn't have to be the weather. It could be...I don't know. Gardening?' He sounded defensive.

'You like gardening?'

'Who knows. I've never tried. But it sounds like something that normal people talk about.'

'Alright,' she nodded. 'Then let's kill Kylo Ren.'

His eyes narrowed. 'I thought you said you weren't armed?'

'Everyone on Sarcos Three knows who you are, and they know you've just left, and you told the Resistance I was plotting to kill you. So, all we have to do is blow up the shuttle and disappear and the galaxy will think you're dead. I take it this ship has an escape pod?'

'Only one,' he confirmed. 'Made for one. Or for two people who are very fond of each other. But the shuttle is linked to the First Order fleet, if you set it to self-destruct they'll know. It won't be a convincing enough death.'

'I wasn't planning on using the self-destruct. I was going to set up a cascade failure in the containment field of your lightsaber, it's pretty unstable as it is. If you leave it switched on it'll overload and blow a hole in the ship big enough to look like you've been sucked out into space, so there's no body to find. Everyone will think that the two of us had a fight and I beat you – that's a very convincing death. Instead, you and I leave in the escape pod, land on whatever the nearest planet is, you hide for a few days while I get the Resistance to pick me up. I'll tell them I've killed you, they'll have a party, during which I'll permanently borrow a ship from one of the stupid people I've met over the last few weeks. I'll come and collect you and we'll disappear into the stars. Talking to you about gardening forever can't possibly be as bad as my life is at the moment.'

He frowned. 'Gardening was an example. We could talk about books or politics or whatever normal people talk about. The rest of the plot to kill me is perfect. You should have thought of it before.'

She found it hard to contain her excitement into a single smile. 'If we're talking politics you'll need a new lightsaber, it might get heated. You show me where to find a crystal and I'll lend you my book on how to make them properly. Looks like you need lessons.'

He reached out lazily, snagged her hand and pulled her into his arms. 'There's nothing wrong with my lightsaber,' he murmured.

She flung him a suggestive look. 'It wasn't working very well earlier. Seemed to have developed a fault.'

He rested a hand on her backside, yanked her into close contact with the front of his trousers. 'I think you'll find it's mended.'

She had him in the pilot's chair, or he had her, she'd lost track of whose turn it was supposed to be. Climaxing, clenched tight around him, pushed over the edge by his talented finger, she looked into his eyes, felt him surge into her, his hips pushing the final throes of his release deep into her core, and she'd never been so glad to kill someone in her entire life.

And later, snuggled into his arms, sealed together into the coffin-shaped escape pod, watching the red fire burn into space taking half the command shuttle with it, she knew that the plot to kill Kylo Ren had succeeded, and she could start a new life with whoever he chose to become next.

Thank you for reading this story. If you'd like to read some more, I have published two romance novels, The Car Crash Bride and The Postman's Daughter by Sally Anne Palmer which are available on Amazon for about $3.


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